Relaxing Her Sweet Indian Ass

I've caught a glimpse of her a couple of times when the wind blew a tree she is behind." Shit," I said softly. "Now I'm going to be worried about her. Is there anything we can do for her?" She'd probably run off if we tried to talk to her."I thought for a minute then asked, "If I was gone, do you think she'd talk to you?" She might. What did you have in mind?" I thought I might walk back over to the restaurant and get a nice takeout meal. Any suggestions?" Steak, baked potato, and a huge salad." Okay, I'll be back shortly." I got up, gave Sam a soft kiss, and walked off toward the restaurant.When I got to the restaurant, I walked straight to the cashier and asked, "Do you have containers that you could fix me a big takeout meal?" Yes, sir. What did you have in mind?" I want the biggest steak you have cooked medium rare. I want a baked potato with butter and sour cream in cups on the side. I'd like a salad that is at least twice as big as the one my wife and I were served with the. She was sitting in such a way that I could see only the lower part of her face, and down through her midsection. She waved, and I closed the other windows and enlarged hers. She was blonde, with her hair down the front of her past her breasts (my favorite length!). She was wearing a t-shirt that I could see the word “Special” and the letters “Orders” on the next line and some more letters below. “Hello” I typed. She typed back “Mic?” I turned on my speakers and typed back that my mic was broken (it is) but I could hear her. She began talking while I kept typing. There was something familiar about her that I couldn't place, as I only saw part of her face. “Hi Daddy, can we play?” she asked in a sweet southern accent that had a familiarity to it. “Sure baby, how old are you?” (I always ask, as law enforcement seems to think this is their playground too.) “I'm 22, how old are you?” I typed “47, but I'm not dead yet.” (There's that wit I was talking about.) She smiled and asked for.
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